


Lying in Wait

by FeabhraBlth



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeabhraBlth/pseuds/FeabhraBlth
Summary: Waking up in darkness, Cloud Strife can't begin to imagine how much his life is about to change at the hands of his kidnapper, a man that wants everything he has to give, and is willing to take it from him no matter what the cost.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 25
Kudos: 206





	1. Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story will be dark, with themes of kidnapping, stalking, violence, possible non-consensual sexual situations and angst. If this is something that upsets you or is just not your thing, please don't read on.
> 
> This story is set in the FF7 world but does not follow the cannon of the game, although some details are similar, such as hometowns, jobs, etc.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Square Enix or any of its characters.

Even before he opened his eyes, Cloud knew that something was wrong.

Consciousness came to him slowly, like a desperate swim upwards through layers of dark water. When he reached the surface, he didn't recognise the feelings in his own body as he attempted to open his eyes. They felt like they'd been taped shut, and when he tried to twitch his fingers it felt like they were wrapped in cotton padding. He made some gasping noises that were loud to his own ears and finally forced his heavy lids apart. He was confused to find that everything was still dark when he did so.

Dark. Not like in his bedroom in the middle of the night when the moonlight shone through the curtains. Not like when he stayed too long in the mountains and the stars shone brighter than he'd ever seen them before. This was a blackness that was pure and absolute; completely undiluted by anything outside it. He felt his heart immediately begin to gallop in his chest as he moved his eyes back and forth in an attempt to figure out if there was something wrong with them.

He couldn't tell, and this sent him into an instant panic. He almost choked on the lump in his throat as he slowly scrambled to get himself up onto his elbows. That's when he took notice of the unfamiliar feeling of whatever he was lying on. It was soft and, as he moved his hand slowly over it, he could feel the rise and fall of quilted panels. It felt sort of like a mattress but he could tell it wasn't one, or at least a normal one. It was too firm and didn't shift with his movements as he pulled himself up into an almost-sitting position, with his upper body resting back on his arms.

The amount of effort the simple action seemed to take was unbelievable and left him with a layer of sweat all over his skin. He felt hot and sluggish. He had to gulp in air for several minutes just to get his breathing under control before he attempted to move again.

He slowly sat fully upright and moved his arms to rest on his knees. He could feel that he was wearing his cargo pants and sweater, but no shoes. His body felt strange, his skin sort of tingling as if it was recovering from a lidocaine injection, and his stomach felt extremely queasy and unsettled. The worst discomfort was in his neck though; the whole left side was aching. That side of his throat felt swollen and it twinged when he swallowed.

Grimacing, he looked around himself again, trying not to let anxiety overcome him as he stared into the nothingness and wracked his brain for what had happened or how he had woken up like this. But he couldn't remember… his mind felt like it was working too slowly. He couldn't remember what happened before he'd... fallen asleep? Passed out? Had he been in an accident? Had something happened to his eyes?

Anxiety did rear its ugly head then and without thinking he reached up and pressed his hands hard to his face. His vision exploded in fireworks of red and white as he pressed his fingertips right into his eyeballs. He let out a small choking sound of relief as he assumed this meant that he did still have his sight... he wouldn't see anything if he didn't, right?

Dropping his hands, he blinked until the sparks and patterns dissipated again, leaving him once more in the dark, both literally and metaphorically.

He slowly moved his legs so that he could get himself into a kneeling position. Then with his hands fisted at his sides, digging into the padding under him, he painstakingly began to rise to his feet. It was too soon. His head swam severely the minute he was fully upright, and he surged on the brink of passing out again as awareness slipped away.

He came back, seconds later, to find himself hunched forward with both hands reflexively pressed to a wall that he hadn't realized was in front of him. To his surprise it had the same soft, padded feeling as the ground did. He ran his hands all over it. The whole thing felt the same way.

Something clicked in his mind, but he tried to deny it straight away, the idea too chilling to comprehend. Unfortunately, when he carefully started exploring around him further, he knew that he was right. There was another wall to the left, the same as the one in front of him. And less than a foot on either side, there were two more.

He was in some sort of padded room, a cell, like in films about insane asylums. It felt tiny; so small that he could touch the opposite walls on either side by extending his arms out. It was no bigger than a store dressing room, and his breathing immediately became strained as claustrophobia worse than what he'd already been feeling overcame him. He searched desperately for a door or window or even a seam in the material, but there was nothing. He felt like a mako fly that had been captured by kids and put in a box with no air holes.

A memory flashed through his mind. Of a light at the top of a door, his own hands pounding on it from so far below.

He didn't like small spaces.

"H-hello?" His voice came out hoarse and pitched and barely louder than a whisper. His mouth tasted disgusting and his tongue had the same cotton feeling as his fingers. He cleared his throat and moved up against the wall, pressing his face close to it in hopes that his voice would carry through to the other side.

"Hello! Please, somebody? I don't know where I am... I can't get out!"

Unexpectedly, he felt his eyes begin to sting and choked back the tears that wanted to fall as he kept going, "please, my name is Cloud Strife. I'm locked in here. I don't know where I am. If there's someone out there, please let me out."

Silence answered him. He pressed his forehead into the padding and closed his eyes. He didn't understand. What was happening? How had he gotten here?

He could only... he could only remember being at school, the last day of school before summer. He'd said goodbye to Tifa... he couldn't remember anything else. He couldn't remember getting home.

"Hey!" He found himself calling again, reaching up to pound his fists into the soft wall at either side of his head. He pushed himself back and turned the other way, "is somebody there? My mom will be looking for me so if this is a joke, it has to end now. This isn't funny."

Silence. Darkness.

He gave a defeated cry and ran his fingers back through his hair.

"This isn't funny..."

He bent double, his hands practically tearing his hair back from his scalp as his body shook through several breaths mingled with sobs. His emotions felt raw and barely contained, and he was starting to understand that the way he was feeling was really, really not right. It was more than tiredness. Something had happened to him. If this was the other kids in his village, they'd really gone too far. He knew they hated him, thought he was a loser, but would they really do this?

With neither the energy nor the will to stay standing any more, he let himself drop to his knees again. His hands fell limply at either side of him as he stared ahead. He didn't know what to do.

He crawled forward and spent some more minutes trying to find a way out, but there was still nothing he could detect. In the end he wound up sitting in the corner furthest left, leaned back against the wall with his legs pulled up close to his chest. Feeling completely exhausted, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

All he could do was hope someone would find him. He didn't know how long he'd been in there and what happened before. It had to have happened sometime after he left school. That meant his mom would have been home not long after that and would have noticed he was missing.

Yes, his mom would find him. This was the only thought that could comfort Cloud as he sat there, waiting for whatever was to come and praying he wouldn't end his life locked in this box.

***

In his waiting he somehow fell asleep again; a distressed, nightmare-ridden bout of unconsciousness that came to an instant and alarming end when the padded cell was suddenly filled with light.

He gasped and pressed his hands over his face, startled and disorientated from just waking up. He then watched through his fingers as a section of the wall in front of him suddenly broke away, revealing the doorway he hadn't been able to find. He barely had time to take this in before the empty space was blocked by a body.

As his vision finally adjusted, he could only look up with dread as one of the most intimidating men he'd ever seen in his life stared down at him. The stranger was tall and fiercely muscular, with pale skin and long silver hair. The hair reached almost to the end of his back and the colour didn't look like something someone should naturally have. He was dressed strangely too, in a long leather coat, all black and with straps and buckles that criss-crossed his mostly bare chest.

Cloud felt his vision waiver as he slowly lowered his hands and sat himself straighter against the wall. He couldn't make himself move otherwise. Weakness and uncertainty kept him in place. He knew straight away that the stranger wasn't there to help him. The green eyes were set on him in a way that made his flesh rise in goose bumps. He felt sick.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours in the horrible little cell, one standing tall and calm by the only exit, the other hunched small in his shadow. Eventually though, the man shifted himself so his long, jagged hair brushed over his jawbone, and motioned at him.

"Get up."

"Who are you?" Cloud said just as fast. His voice was even more hoarse than before. He watched the man close his mouth and stare down at him, waited for an answer that he didn't get.

"Please... Can you tell me where I am?" He tried again, grinding his back teeth against each-other in an effort to keep his voice level, "my… my mom will be looking for me. She… I should be home by now," he added.

The reaction he got was immediate and violent. Instead of answering, the stranger stepped forward and lunged down in what seemed like one blurred movement, then viciously grabbed a handful of his hair before Cloud had the time to react. He didn't pause before he used the tight grip to roughly jerk him away from the wall and towards the still open doorway.

Cloud screeched in pain and lifted his hands to his head, trying to ease the searing tension at the same time as he tried to get his still sleeping legs to work under him. He bounced and tripped against the padded floor, unable to steady himself.

"Sst- stop! What are you d-oing? Let go," he gasped out, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest, making his breathing erratic and almost impossible. He tried to get the grip off his hair, but the man's fingers were entwined deeply into the mass of blond spikes. He'd left it grow long over the past few months and now it gave the man the handhold he needed to drag him out of the tiny padded cell and into an outer hall. It wasn't as bright out there as it was in the cell, but it was equally as unsettling and clinical, with ugly duck egg blue walls and a hard-tiled floor.

His socked feet slipped on those tiles as the man pulled him up higher and forced him to finally get to his feet. The grip in his hair eased so it was more at the back of his head than the top, but it was just as unrelenting as he was pushed forward, towards a white doorway he could see across from him.

His blood ran cold at the sight of it.

"Please... why are you doing this? What do you want?" He breathed out, sickness rising and rising in his chest, "p-please, I don't know who you are, but I shouldn't be here. I'm not..."

He looked around himself frantically. The wall to the right was plain and solid; a dead end, but on the left he saw another dark-wood doorway, larger than the white one, and he wondered if it was a way out of there.

He didn't have time to wonder. He didn't want to find out where the stranger was trying to bring him. If he wanted him there, it couldn't be for anything good. Without a second thought he roughly jerked himself to a stop on his heels, catching the man by surprise as he'd hoped, and used the momentary slack in his attacker's grip on his hair to try to get himself out from under his hold.

Unfortunately it was indeed only a momentary lapse on the other man's part, and Cloud hadn't even managed to get the fingers untangled from his hair before the tension returned and he was again shoved forward. To make things worse, a second arm came up and clasped around his neck. Iron and solid, it clamped down until it restricted almost eighty percent of his breathing. In seconds, his vision began to swim.

"Nngh, pl..." he coughed and struggled back against the restraining arms, but the man was built like a bahamut, much taller and twice as broad. It was like trying to fight solid steel, and despite his most desperate struggles, in the end Cloud was forced over to the other side.

They stopped just outside the door. For a moment the place was filled with the sound of his strained breathing. Everything else was quiet. His attacker's own breaths came calmly and mostly silent, as if he hadn't exerted any effort at all. Then the hold around his neck disappeared and he gasped in lungfuls of air as that same arm reached over his shoulder and pushed the door open.

"Please–" he groaned in the seconds before the thing swung back, but stopped short when the room was revealed to him. Not a shed with knives and tools to cut his skin and break his bones, not a room wrapped in plastic that would hide any evidence of his death, not one of the million other things it could have been.

It was a bathroom.

Though it was dark inside, he could see that the walls and floor were covered in tiles. There was a toilet bowl and sink on one side, and what looked like a bathtub on the other.

He jumped when the man switched on the light inside using the socket beside the door. The off-white porcelain of everything in the room gleamed under it. He continued to stare at it until he suddenly grunted when he was pushed forward roughly. He turned the second his hair was let go of, only to find the man effectively blocking the doorway with his hand already on the door handle and his other leaned along the edge of the frame.

He looked inhuman against all the white around him. The paleness of his skin and hair was emphasised in what would normally be unflattering lighting and it made his eyes look like something from another world, like a monster from the stories his mother told him. When his lips moved, they were sharp and bowed, the teeth white and straight.

"You have five minutes."

And with that he closed the door in his face and there was the obvious sound of a lock engaging from the other side.

Cloud stared at it for almost a full minute, shocked. But he soon realised it wasn't going to open again, so he slowly turned around to look at the rest of the room. There wasn't much in there. There was a small mirror above the sink, and a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste under it. He looked over at the bathtub. It was big and old-fashioned looking. Different to the one they had at home.

The room looked new otherwise though, the tiles were gleaming and perfect looking and the porcelain fixtures were completely clean and unstained. There was a familiar smell in there, like the plaster glue his mom sometimes used when doing DIY jobs in the house. It made him think that the room had been newly renovated. He wasn't sure what that meant.

He realised he did need to use the bathroom pretty badly, so did that first, unsure of how much of the 'five minutes' he had left. He washed his hands afterwards, out of habit he supposed, and couldn't avoid looking into the mirror when it was right in front of him. His reflection caught him off guard. He looked… pale. But it was more than that. His eyes looked strange. They were wide and red, and black bags were beginning to form under them.

The sight made everything suddenly seem alarmingly real and snapped him out of the daze he'd been stuck in since waking up the second time. He pushed himself back from the sink quickly, reaching up to press one wet hand against his mouth as nausea surged up to his throat. He looked around the room, but there was nothing... nothing to help him. The toilet bowl was a plain structure with no loose pieces, everything welded into place. Some toilet paper rested on the ground beside it but there was no other toiletries such as bleach or cleaner, and there were no shampoo or shower cream bottles around the bath. The sink was bare as well, but the mirror above it…

He reached up to feel its edges. It seemed to be completely glued to the wall. However, if he could break it and…

And what? Attack the man with one of the broken pieces? A man that was twice his size and who's body wasn't moving like it was half asleep?

He moved back, shaking his head to clear it. Gaia, was this actually happening to him? Was he actually seriously contemplating fighting for his life with a shard of broken glass? How did he get to be in a situation like this?

The moment he asked himself the question, his vision began to shutter. He pressed his eyes closed, and was suddenly assaulted with a series of flashing images.

Walking home from the village school. He was using the path beside the mountains because it was faster and he was less likely to run into jerks from his class.

Then a feeling of suffocating. Something closing over his face. Something pulling him. A sharp sting all along the left side of his neck.

Nothing else after that, only waking up in darkness.

He snapped his eyes open and stared in disbelief at the floor, water gathering in his vision as he lifted a hand to his neck, where it had been aching since he woke up. He moved over to the mirror and leaned forward. Pushing his hair out of the way, he examined the patch of skin and sure enough there it was; a small puncture an inch or so beneath his earlobe. It was such a small wound for the pain it was causing. But it's presence alone was what chilled him. Someone – Sephiroth – had knocked him out with drugs and taken him here. He'd been purposely taken on his way home from school.

At that moment, the door to the room opened and he looked over as the man appeared outside it again. His blood was rushing in his ears; everything felt like it was swimming around him. His own voice sounded far away and unfamiliar when he spoke.

"You took me here?" He watched the man for a reaction but got nothing aside from the same calm stare he'd gotten earlier. "Why?"

Slowly, his captor raised a hand and beckoned him over to him. Cloud shook his head.

"M-my mom knows the mayor of our village. People will be looking for me as soon as they notice something is wrong. It's– you'll get in trouble for this," he wondered how much time had passed, if his mom was looking yet, if she had told anyone. There were no windows in there, or in the hall beyond. He was completely isolated from outside and had no way to gauge what time of the day or night it was. He hoped it wasn't night. He didn't want to spend the night there.

"If you just let me out, I won't say anything," he finished. He watched his captor and felt his stomach sink when he saw not even a hint of uneasiness in response to his threats. They flowed off the man like water against a bluff; weak and powerless. That's exactly what he was, wasn't it? Completely powerless.

That's why when the man did speak again, he found himself hesitantly complying with what he said.

"If you don't come over here now, I'll come over there to get you. It's your choice."

He slowly turned, his hipbone brushing against the sink and pressing into it as he faced the door again. The other watched him, his expression neutral but the muscles of his arms flexing in a way that told Cloud he was seconds away from moving, probably to make good on his threat. His scalp stinging at the memory of the earlier assault, he slowly forced himself to take a step forward.

It felt like a mile-long journey to get across the bathroom, like how he imagined a prisoner's walk to the execution chamber would feel. By the time he reached the door and stopped inches from it, his heart was pounding almost painfully in his chest and his body had broken out in a cold sweat. He felt close to passing out again.

Breathing deeply, he brought his gaze slowly up to his kidnapper's face and thought he saw a flicker of something there when their eyes met, before it went cold again and his arm was suddenly and roughly grabbed around the bicep.

He pulled back reflexively, but was unable to prevent himself from being forced out of the bathroom and back into the ugly hall.

"What do you want?" He asked again, squirming in the almost bruising hold. "Please, just tell me... do you want money? My mom can..."

He saw then that he was being dragged back to the padded cell, and his stomach sunk in dread and despair.

"No, no please, please don't put me back in there. Please, just tell me what you want. What do you want?" He fought harder now, bringing his other hand forward to claw at the fingers around his arm. He dug his nails into the other's skin, pressing down in an attempt to dislodge the grip. It did nothing.

"Stop!" He screeched, clamping down hard enough to feel the firm skin give in some places, "I'm not going back in there. I'm not fucking going back in there!"

In the end it wasn't his choice. His kidnapper was successful in pulling him back over to the cell, and used his brute advantage to shove him roughly back through the opening so he ended up falling forward onto his hands and knees on the padding. He scrambled to turn himself around and was surprised to find that instead of staying out in the hall, the other man had followed in after him.

Cloud felt like a caged animal as he eased himself backwards until he hit the wall behind him. He brought his knees close to his chest and kept his eyes on the man, wary of his next move.

Sephiroth lowered himself down until he was crouched directly in front of him. Cloud stared into his face, beautiful but vicious looking with its structured bones and aristocratic features. His kidnapper looked like someone who had dominated others all his life, who made a game out of intimidating people.

"You're new to things, so I'll be kind this one time," the stranger started, his voice smooth and deep. It had an almost careless quality to it. He gave what was close to a smile, just a quirk of his lips, before his expression fell flat, "but the next time I come in here, if you speak out of turn, or hesitate to do anything I tell you, there will be consequences."

Cloud stared back, feeling angry and humiliated at being spoken to like some sort of child. He kept his mouth shut though, there was nothing to say and he was at too much of a disadvantage to start anything. His kidnapper watched him for almost a full minute, the tension building between them with each passing second, before he nodded and got to his feet again. Cloud followed him with his eyes, but otherwise didn't move from his position against the wall.

"But to answer your first question, Cloud, my name is Sephiroth and from this point on, I am your everything."

"No," he shook his head, swallowing back the bile that surged up his throat as the man departed the cell without another word and closed off the door behind him. He continued to whisper the word under his breath, over and over again at the realization that he was once again confined alone in the tiny space, with only those parting words for company.

No, this was not what his life was now. This was not everything. He had another year of school left. He had his plans to leave Nibelheim after that and earn enough Gil so his mom didn't have to struggle so much. All of that was waiting for him beyond these padded walls, that was his future. Not this, not Sephiroth.

He slowly lowered himself onto his side, pressing his cheek against the cool floor of the cell. There was a blotch of colour in the corner of his eye and he looked over to see a plastic bottle of some sort of luminously yellow liquid resting on the floor across from him. It hadn't been there before; his kidnapper left it for him.

He moved his eyes away from it, ignoring how dry his mouth and throat felt. He would not acknowledge anything from this nightmare any more than he had to.

He wrapped his arms around his stomach and let himself sink fully into the cushioning under him, eyes on the section in the wall where the doorway had been. It had disappeared like a secret passageway. All he could do was lie there and wait for it to open again, praying that someone other than his captor would be the one on the other side, someone that would free him from this prison and take him back to a future he had some control over.

Unfortunately, he feared that like so many secret passages, only a creature of evil and darkness had the power to control things in this new world.


	2. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in darkness, Cloud Strife can't begin to imagine how much his life is about to change at the hands of his kidnapper, a man that wants everything he has to give, and is willing to take it from him no matter what the cost.

If Cloud had arrived home after school that day, he would have gone straight into his bedroom and threw his book bag in the corner of his closet. He would have used the basin to wash up after his walk home in the sweltering mid-day heat, then he would have helped his mom with dinner. She was going to make him his favourite Carob stew, since the traders had passed through the village again and she'd stocked up on supplies. This also meant he had several new editions of Shinra's _SOLDIER Update_ to read. He probably would have stayed up in bed reading them, and been tired the next day, but he would have thought it was worth it for the fuel they provided his dreams.

All in all, if Cloud had arrived home from school that day, he would have gone on with his life as he always had, without the fear that it would all be suddenly taken away from him, or him from it.

But Cloud hadn't come home.

Instead he was lying on the floor of a tiny padded cell that he'd woken up in hours before, once again smothered by the thick darkness that had made his awakening to this nightmare so utterly terrifying in the first place. Unable to cope with the sight – or lack of it – he lay there with his eyes closed and his cheek pressed into the padding below him. One of his hands was dragging mindlessly back and forth across the soft surface, providing little high-pitched, zipping sounds whenever his nails crossed over a seam.

Aside from that, everything was quiet and still inside the cell. As a grave, and he almost felt like he was dead within it.

_Everything_

Maybe he was as good as. The man… Sephiroth, had left him what had to be hours ago, his parting words the only company Cloud had since.

_I am your everything._

He didn't know what they meant. He didn't know what the man wanted. He couldn't understand why he, of all people, would be taken like this. He'd never even _met_ Sephiroth before. There was no reason for this to be happening to him...

But he'd come to the grim conclusion that maybe there didn't need to be a reason. For him anyway. Maybe it was only his kidnapper's reasons that counted, his plans, and Cloud was just an unlucky victim caught in the middle of them. All he could do then was lie in wait, waiting for his kidnapper to reveal whatever horrors were in store for him. Maybe the next time the man came back, he would bring a gun and end it all quickly. Or maybe he would bring weapons and tools to torture him with, like those deranged killers in the movies his mom never let him watch but he'd seen anyway. Maybe Sephiroth would burn him and cut into him and strangle him, then leave him in a ditch somewhere for the monsters to finish off. Cloud had never really, honestly considered that things like that could happen in real life, that they _actually happened to people_ , but now he had to face the reality that not all horror stories were fiction.

But thinking like that made him feel ill, so he tried not to. Instead, he tried to plan his next move to get himself out of there. He couldn't just wait to find out what was going to happen, he had to fight to survive this; he had to be strong.

_Wimp._

_Momma's boy._

_Pathetic._

He opened his eyes, forcing away the jeering voices. It was difficult to do that in the darkness. It made everything in his head seem so much more real. The light had stayed on in the cell for a long time after his kidnapper left him. He'd been surprised by this, expecting to be shut into darkness as soon as the man was out the door again, but he'd used the visibility to study every inch of the cell around him. He tested the padded walls, the ceiling, the floor and found them completely sturdy. Nothing felt amateur or home-made about them and he was sure the walls were completely solid beneath the soft cushioning. So he then spent a long time trying to force the side with the door to open up again. He'd pushed and pushed at it until his muscles burned and sweat stung his eyes, but it did no good; the door wasn't opening by anything other than his captor's hands.

Defeated and shaking with exhaustion, he'd sunk to the floor. There was nothing else to do, his only hope was to try to get away from Sephiroth when the man came back again. He'd have to fight his way out of this.

At some point, as he was sitting there, plotting and planning in an attempt to keep down the panic attack threatening to consume him, the light suddenly shut off in the cell again, and the one meagre comfort he'd been granted was gone.

He'd screamed, pulling himself up to his feet with renewed energy and banging his fists against the walls over and over again. He called out every plea he knew, using the man's name in an attempt to connect with him, to make him _listen_. When that didn't work, he'd moved on to threats and lies, telling his kidnapper again about his mom's fake connections with the town mayor, how they wouldn't wait before looking for him, how everyone in the town would be helping them.

After all that, when he was still met with silence from the other side of the cell wall, he'd screamed and cursed at the non-existent version of his kidnapper standing out there, using language he'd never used before, and that his mom would have smacked him for. He screamed until the bile in his throat curdled with blood and his voice finally gave out and broke.

He ended up on the floor again, sicker and more exhausted than before, his throat burning like it was scraped raw from the inside. That's how he'd been since. Not able to sleep, but lacking the energy to move.

There was a sudden noise on the other side of the cell. His stomach clenched into knots and he sat up as within a few seconds, the wall in front of him broke away again, revealing the hall beyond it.

This time the door opened without the light in the cell being turned on first, so duller light flooded in from the outside to fill up the small space. Its shadowy effect made the seams between the padding look thick and dark all around him, like the bars of a cage. He rested his weight on one arm and used the other to shield his eyes as he waited for his kidnapper to show himself.

But the silver-haired man didn't, and after several long seconds of him staring out at the plain walls, Cloud got the message. He would have to come out on his own.

He closed his eyes. Then, fingers clenching and unclenching against the padded floor, he slowly eased himself onto his knees and crawled the few inches forward towards the exit. He carefully placed his hand on one side and peered out.

"…"

Sephiroth stood just outside the cell, to the left of the door. Despite expecting it, Cloud jumped when his eyes fell on him.

His kidnapper was dressed in the exact same clothes as before, looking just as tall and intimidating with one arm slung casually over the top of the door to keep it pulled back. The man's posture was relaxed and easy, hair hanging loosely to one side, his head tilted that way.

It all should have made the man look relaxed, unthreatening. But there was something there that Cloud could sense, something in those too-green irises as they fell down on him when he appeared, neutral but for the chilling interest somewhere in their depths. Zolom-like. Cloud didn't feel like he was looking at another human being at all.

His throat closed up, all notions of trying to reason with the man dying away now that he was right in front of him. So he stayed completely still and crouched low at the cell doorway, until his kidnapper suddenly pushed himself away and motioned towards the other side of the hall.

"Come out."

Cloud swallowed and gingerly used the grip on the edge of the wall to pull himself up to his feet. His vision swam as he stepped off the soft padding and onto the hard tiled floor and he raised a shaky hand to rub at his eyes.

"Go," the man ordered him impatiently, inclining his head to the left. Cloud looked over at the door across the room, the one for the bathroom he'd been in before.

"Please," he rasped, not moving from where he stood just outside the cell. He pushed some of his matted hair back from his face and looked at the man imploringly, "what do you want?" He couldn't go through the same routine as earlier and still be no further to understanding what was going on. He couldn't handle the waiting much longer.

"Move now, or I'll make you," was the toneless reply.

He clenched his hands at his sides, a small twinge of anger swelling in his chest at Sephiroth's presumption that he could order him around, and at his own helplessness. He looked past the man to focus on the second, heavy-looking door behind him. It was obvious that was the only way out of there.

He just had to get to it.

But he knew he wouldn't at that moment. He knew his own body enough to know how weak it was. He could barely stand upright, let alone gather the energy to fight past the larger man and make a run for it. He'd have to be smart about his timing because he would only get one chance to catch his kidnapper off guard.

So he obediently started walking in the direction of the bathroom, sealing in his mind a promise that he would wait for the perfect opportunity to try for the door. Sephiroth followed at his back throughout the short walk and when they got to the bathroom door, the man reached forward to push it open for him. Cloud stepped inside, shivering a little at the air which felt a few degrees cooler in there. He didn't turn when the door was closed and locked behind him again, the man's parting warning being the same as before.

_Five minutes._

The bathroom was as plain and sterile as the last time he'd been in there. There were no windows to allow for a change in lighting and nothing that he could use as a weapon of defence against his kidnapper.

Unsurprised by any of this, he didn't take too long to dwell on the hopelessness as he staggered over to the sink, practically panting like a dog in the summer heat as he reached out to twist on the cold tap.

He was badly thirsty since he'd refused to drink the bottle of pink juice left in the cell. His throat felt completely dry, to the point where he could barely take a breath without having to cough. He'd only felt a thirst like that once before, years ago, when he'd gone hiking up the mountains outside the village and had gotten lost for a full night without any supplies. The hunger and thirst he'd suffered had been bad enough to make him collapse into his mother's arms by the time he got home. He felt the same way now and swallowed anxiously as he waited for the water to come on.

But he was surprised, and soon horrified, when it didn't happen.

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, he frantically tried the hot tap but that didn't work either.

He pushed away from the sink and after staring at it in disbelief for several long seconds, he turned and made his way over to the bathtub. The result there was the same. The water in the bathroom wasn't working.

"No..." he couldn't help but moan; a long, low, drawn out sound that he didn't recognize from himself. He slid down against the side of the tub, resting his arms up over the edge of it and letting his head fall down into them. He exhaled heavily into his sleeve, the sound coming out loud and wheezy in the empty room.

He needed a drink. He didn't care where the tap water was coming from, if it was filtered or not, he'd been planning to drink it. Now it seemed like his captor had anticipated this little act of defiance and shut the water off so he couldn't get to it. Cloud understood it was punishment for not drinking the bottle left in the cell for him.

He didn't want to even _think_ about how the man knew he didn't drink it. The thought that Sephiroth now had this level of control over him terrified him to his core. His kidnapper literally had control over his life and could deny him even this basic human right on a whim… just because he hadn't done exactly what he wanted… it was a world-altering realisation of how much danger he was really in.

He shook his head and fought back the miserable tears that wanted to gather in his eyes, letting his head sink down further into his arms and not bothering to move from the position again until his five minutes were up and his kidnapper came back into the room.

Footsteps, thick and heavy on the tiles, slow and menacing as they approached. He turned his head just enough to be able to see Sephiroth standing above him. His proportions seemed giant and unrealistic against the white ceiling.

He stiffened when the man bent himself down to his level, coming to rest on one knee. He lifted his head from his arms then and stared into the man's eyes.

"You need to let me go home," he said, his voice not able to go any higher than a whisper. He cleared his throat and swallowed, "please, I need to go home."

And Sephiroth smiled at him. It was just a small quirk to the lips, but it changed the man's face entirely. The expression took Cloud off guard and he could only watch dumbly when Sephiroth lifted a hand and gently pressed it to the side of his face.

The hand felt huge against him as it patted his hair down against his cheek and then wove its fingers in through the matted strands to brush against his scalp. Cloud wanted to flinch away, but couldn't make himself move. The eyes were fixed on him again, green as the lifeblood of the planet, where all the souls eventually go. Cloud felt like he was being pulled there now.

"Please…"

In an instant Sephiroth's smile turned sharp. The heat left his face as the man pulled his hand away–

–only to bring it back seconds later, slamming it hard into his right cheek.

At first, he was too shocked to understand what happened. Everything seemed to whir around him and when it settled, he was facing a different direction. Gulping in a breath, his palms slammed down hard on the tiles below him and he crawled a few inches forward as he registered that he'd just been hit. Red dotted the ground below him, not much but luminous against the white tiles.

He coughed and breathed raggedly through his nose as he scrambled forward on his knees, to get away from his attacker. But all too soon his hair was grabbed from behind and he was pulled backwards with such force that his teeth clamped down on his tongue.

He started to call out in pain but barely got a sound through his lips before another hard slap to his face sent him sprawling on his side. His hair was released so he could slump fully onto the ground, his hands coming up to cover his face.

"Ssst–" he coughed and sputtered through the blood in his mouth, his fingers clawing uselessly at the smooth floor as he tried to get himself back onto his hands and knees.

And Sephiroth gave him the few minutes to do so, allowing him to get almost fully into a crawling position before sending him crashing back down again with a rough foot on the small of his back.

Cloud gasped as his stomach and ribs impacted with the hard ground, and he cried out again when he felt a weight on top of him. Sephiroth climbed onto his back, strong legs clamping around his hips as he then used his brute strength to turn him onto his back. Cloud choked as the blood in his mouth pooled at the back of his throat, drowning him and making him gag until he was able to make his sore throat work to swallow gulps of it.

He stared up at Sephiroth through the hair tangled over his face. The man had his arms pinned at his sides and his weight was resting excruciatingly on his stomach and hips until he could take no more and pleaded with him to get off him. At that point Sephiroth suddenly released one of his hands.

"N–" Cloud had no time to move away or protect himself as a fist slammed deep into his left ribcage, once, twice, three times in quick succession. He seized, throwing his head back as spasms of pain wracked his entire left side, worse than when he'd fractured a rib climbing treehouses when he was little.

_No, please don't take it down! I won't fall again._

When his muscles relaxed and he could move again, all he could do was try to curl on his side under the man. He moved his free arm to coil over his ribs. His chest heaved to catch the breath the punches had knocked out of him as his eyes slid over to Sephiroth to see if he was getting ready to hit him again.

To his surprise, Sephiroth sat back and then got off him, coming to stand over him so high that Cloud could only see the shadow of his features like a monument above him. He gasped in relief despite everything, just happy to have any amount of distance between them.

Like everything else in this nightmare though, the relief didn't last long before his silver-haired captor was bending down. He grabbed onto him and roughly pulled him to his feet. "Nngh..." Cloud groaned as he was pulled out of the bathroom and across the hall in a hazy blur of movement.

When they reached the cell, Sephiroth flung him into it. His body seized up again from the impact. Coughing and gasping, he curled into himself and stared out at his kidnapper as the man stepped back from the cell doorway and without saying anything else, shoved it closed and locked him into darkness again.

The cell was quiet when he was gone. Cloud was left reeling from the violence, listening to the sounds of his own body as his heart pounded out of rhythm and the blood rushed through his veins. He was afraid to move, terrified that any noise he made would tempt Sephiroth into coming back for him again.

So he laid there for what must have been at least an hour, until the pain in his side dulled and he was able to take shallow breaths again, albeit still very gingerly. Slowly, very slowly then, he loosened his body from the defensive coil it had been in, and reached his arms out to pull himself towards the wall by his head. Blood seeped out from between his lips, no doubt staining the cushioning under him, but his throat burned enough to force him to scramble to the top wall of the cell and feel around the corner for the bottle Sephiroth left there earlier.

He found nothing.

"No, no!" He swore and slammed his fists down on the floor. Sephiroth had taken the bottle away. A further punishment, for not drinking it when it had been offered to him in the first place. Now he had nothing. Now he truly felt like he was going to die of thirst. He needed a drink, swallowing his own blood hadn't been enough.

Cloud shook his head and fisted his hands back into his hair, the whole right side of his face throbbing. His ribs hurt too much to hold himself up any longer, so he let himself lie down onto the soft floor, turning on his unhurt side which meant he was facing the back wall.

He felt hopeless. He was still as in the dark about what was happening to him as when he'd woken up for the first time in the cell, but one thing he had learned was that when it came to teaching him lessons for how things were going to be there, his captor was a very competent teacher.

* * *

He slept another fitful sleep curled close to the corner of the cell, until eventually he was woken by the shock of something very cold touching his uninjured cheek.

He jerked his face away from the source of it and opened his eyes. He took in that the light had been turned on in the cell. It let him see Sephiroth, crouched down on one knee and holding out the same bottle of pinkish-red liquid that had been in the cell before.

Fighting off the dizziness and disorientation from just having woken up, he remained unmoving as he stared at the man. But then he watched Sephiroth's expression changing subtly, becoming just a bit more blank, and he knew he had to act.

Putting all his weight on one hand, he reached forward and took the drink offered to him. His side woke up in fresh pain at the movement and he gritted his teeth against it, panting slightly by the time he pulled the bottle back.

Knowing he didn't have a choice, he carefully opened the lid and brought the rim to his lips. He was aware of Sephiroth watching his every move, and it made him feel self-conscious and awkward. He tipped the bottle back only very slightly, half afraid the contents would burn his tongue like acid at the first drop. It didn't, instead cool liquid that had the subtle taste of berries washed over his tongue. It soothed his mouth and throat so much that he couldn't stop himself from tipping the bottle more.

Still, he only took a few small sips before he lowered it again. Not knowing what to do, he simply held it to his chest with shaking fingers as he waited for his captor's next move.

Sephiroth tilted his head slightly, his long hair all falling over his shoulder. He gave him a pointed look.

"What do you say?"

"..." His tongue got tangled in his mouth for several seconds before he was able to get the words out, "thank you."

The man nodded and then pulled himself backwards out of the cell again. Cloud remained where he was, until a bang on the outside wall made him jump, almost dropping the drink clutched in his hands.

"Come on."

He quickly twisted the lid back onto the bottle and then set it down so he could start getting up. It was more difficult than he thought; the rest had allowed the full impact of his beating to settle into his body, and now it felt like every part of him hurt as he leaned heavily against the wall and attempted to pull himself to his feet in one movement.

He hissed and immediately hunched over with his arms braced on his knees. The whole of his right side screamed in such pain that he wasn't sure he would be able to keep standing. His face felt hot and swollen and there was a strong taste of blood in his mouth that the small drink hadn't washed away.

He needed a doctor. He didn't feel right, and he was afraid that there was something badly wrong with his insides.

Another sharp thud against the open door made him press his eyes closed in defeat. Sephiroth wasn't going to let him go to a doctor. Sephiroth didn't care what happened to him.

Opening his eyes, he slowly walked himself to the entrance of the cell and stopped to look out at his kidnapper. The man's eyes brushed over him from head to toe, and then he held out a hand, motioning him forward.

The water was running in the bathroom again, but it was little consolation as he painfully went through the motions of using the toilet and then washing his hands afterwards. Now there was a small toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on the edge of the sink, and this time he wasn't stupid enough to ignore something he'd been offered.

* * *

Days went on like this.

At least, he thought they were days. He had no way to follow the movement of time. All he had was the light in the cell. When it shut off and left him in suffocating darkness for hours on end, he called it night. When it switched on, it was day.

Three, four, five cycles of this he went through, an unending stream of misery and fear that was broken only by the visits from his captor. Sephiroth.

He came twice a cycle. He would arrive as soon as the lights turned on, with a new drink that Cloud didn't dare refuse and was desperate for anyway. Then he would escort him to the bathroom and give him his five minutes to use the toilet and brush his teeth before locking him back in the cell. Just before the lights switched off, they would go through the same routine again.

By the fourth cycle of this, Cloud broke down, begging and pleading with the man when he showed up that 'morning'. He was starving, having not been given anything but the fruit-flavoured drinks since he arrived. More than that though, he felt like he was losing his mind. The constant fear and excruciating boredom were breaking him down and he couldn't take much more of it, of just lying there staring at the walls around him, waiting only for the horrible darkness to return and plummet him into an endless stream of nightmares. He wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be at home, with his mom. They were all eachother had.

So he'd begged Sephiroth, on his knees on the cell floor, clutching the man's legs in desperate entreaty, to let him go home and put an end to all this.

For that, he received a beating worse than the first had been. Sephiroth seemed to be an expert in inflicting pain in a way that didn't cause serious damage. He'd focused on the sturdier parts of his body, slamming him down onto his back on the tiles just outside the cell's entrance, and then driving his fists into his legs, his hips, his sides, his shoulders.

Cloud barely remembered the assault, only screaming and struggling with fists that came at him from every angle, pain slamming into him all over his body, never being able to predict where it would come next.

It ended with a rough slap to his face that sent him into unconsciousness. He was thrown back into the cell during that time and woke up hours later, disorientated and in pain.

Another cycle had passed since then. He was sitting in his cell again, leaning into one corner in the closest he could get to a comfortable sitting position. His body had suffered through extreme pain in the first hours after Sephiroth's second beating, to the point where he couldn't stop himself from groaning and writhing on the padded floor. The immediate pain had eventually died away, but the damage had left his body sore and cramped and barely able to move. He was covered with large, mottled bruises under his clothing, his skin a patchwork of purple and yellow everywhere his captor's fists had made contact. He didn't like to look at any of it, so he kept himself covered with his clothes as much as he could.

The light switched on in the cell.

Swallowing, he made himself uncurl slightly from his defensive position, stretching his legs slowly away from his torso with what felt like an incredible amount of pain. About ten minutes later, longer than usual, he noticed, Sephiroth unlocked the door.

He remained silent as the man looked in at him. He wasn't allowed to speak without being spoken to. He understood that now.

Sephiroth was dressed like he always was, dark and intimidating as he stood there with one arm extended to rest against the edge of the doorway. After looking in at him for a couple of seconds, the man moved aside to let him come out of the cell and escorted him as he hobbled over to the bathroom.

His head spun from his injuries and the lack of food. He felt like everything around him was tipping dangerously by the time he was locked inside the bathroom. He stumbled over to the toilet bowl to do his business, washed his hands and then just waited with his forehead pressed to the cool mirror above the sink. He felt very close to throwing up. He just wanted to lie down again. At home, in his own bed, with his own stuff around him, his mom…

His captor came back to get him all too soon. Cloud turned around to start the painful walk over to him, but was surprised when instead of holding the door open for him to come out again, the man stepped into the bathroom and – to his unease – closed the door behind him. Cloud had walked into the middle of the room, expecting to go back out into the hall, but now he slowly stepped backwards as the man approached.

But Sephiroth's target wasn't him this time; instead he moved over to the bathtub and leaned down to fiddle with the taps. The sudden sound of the water sloshing out in a heavy torrent made Cloud jump, and his heart remained in his throat as he watched his kidnapper run his hand under the flow, checking the temperature, before he seemed satisfied and reached down to plug in the stopper.

He watched nervously as the bath slowly filled with water. When it was about three-quarters of the way filled, Sephiroth reached forward and twisted off the taps again. He then stood and turned to him. Seeing his expression of fear, the man only gave him a cold smile.

"I'll give you ten minutes this time. I expect you completely clean. Get rid of those," he motioned towards Cloud's filthy, blood-stained clothes, the ones he'd worn since his abduction. "There's a new set there," he finished, pointing to the small bundle Cloud had already noticed.

He nodded, aware that he had no other choice in the matter. His captor seemed satisfied with that as he turned to walk out of the room again. When he was gone, Cloud found himself biting back a sob. His captor was proving another point to him about his lack of control. He got to decide something as simple as when he cleaned himself, what he wore…

He reached for the hem of his top. He'd worn a light, green sweater going to school that morning, one that wouldn't be too warm for the hot weather but still appropriate for class. Under it he was wearing his white t-shirt, plain aside from some black graphic designs on the front. It was one he'd got from the traders months ago – it wasn't often they had clothes with designs or anything cool, so he'd been excited to find it. His jeans were from the traders too, his favorite pair that were badly faded at the knees and his mom always scowled at him for wearing now.

_You know people will think we can't afford better if you dress like that!_

But he just liked them. They were comfortable.

Once those were off, it was just his underwear.

Taking off each item reminded him of the morning he'd put them on. Another normal day of school. He hadn't even really cared what he was putting on, he just wanted to get out of the house before he was late. Now they felt like the most important things in the world to him as they were stripped away; his last connections to his life and the person he'd been that morning.

He was crying, he realised, as he shakily reached down and with only a moment's hesitation, slipped the boxers down his legs. Afterwards he just stood there, softly panting and hiccupping, bringing his hands up to cover his face. But he knew he couldn't spend too long standing there, so he lowered his hands again and moved forward to step into the tub.

The water was hot, but he barely felt it as he sat himself down. The moment he was sitting again he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, both to cover himself as much as possible in the clear water, and to comfort himself. In the clarity of the water his bruised body was laid bare, a purple, mottled map of what he'd been through since Sephiroth had abducted him from his normal life. It was hard to look at, so he kept his eyes elsewhere and reached down to pick up the washcloth and liquid soap that had been left beside the tub.

He dipped the washcloth in the water to wet it, and then tipped some liquid from one of the bottles onto it. He carefully pressed it to the skin of his neck where he knew a lot of dried blood had run down from his cut lips. The friction of the cloth stung a little as he dragged it over his tender skin, but it felt good to get rid of some of the evidence of the attacks, so he kept going.

By the time he was done with his body, the water had become a murky, brownish colour. Old and new blood – from the cuts he'd reopened with his scrubbing – swirled around him like the tie-dye art. But at least it helped hide his body from his own gaze as he picked up the second bottle of shampoo. A strong, fruity smell wafted through the air as he tipped the contents into one of his palms.

He brought it to his hair and began to rub it in. He had a lot of hair, thick spikes that never seemed to lie flat no matter what he did with them – one of the main things the village kids made fun of him for – and it had become completely matted with sweat, blood and almost a week's worth of grime. He needed to get more shampoo and scoop up several handfuls of water to make a good lather before it was ready to be rinsed out.

He used the bath hose to rinse it off since the bath water was so dirty. It took him a few minutes to work out how to use it because they didn't have a bath with running water home. By then he was starting to panic about his allotted time running out, so as soon as the water ran clear, he shut it off and stood up to get out of the tub. The minute the air of the room touched his skin he started shivering, so much that he could barely get his feet to move and then almost fell out over the side of the bath. He caught himself on the edge and carefully lowered himself to the floor.

Sephiroth had left a single blue towel with the clothes he was to change into. He wrapped it around himself and stood there for another full minute. He felt incredibly tired after the hot water and everything else and it was difficult to stay on his feet, but he was also afraid of the door opening before he was dressed. So he started to dry himself, very gingerly shifting the towel against his skin while trying to keep it covering him as much as possible. He groaned a bit when he bent forward to dry his legs but forced himself to ignore the pain and get the task done.

The clothing Sephiroth left for him was simple; pants, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt made from a loose, soft material. They were off-white, a similar colour to the padding in his cell. He pulled them on as fast as he could, just happy to be covered again.

He'd barely slipped the sweatshirt over his still dripping hair when the door to the bathroom was opened. He quickly pulled the material over his stomach and then looked down at his feet. He'd sloshed a lot of the dirty water on the floor when getting out of the tub and realised that with that, the towel and his discarded clothes, there was quite a mess. He glanced back up at his captor in fear that he'd be angry over it, but if the silver-haired man noticed, he didn't react. Instead, he was running his green eyes over his captive critically. Cloud lowered his own, not wanting to provoke the man in any way. He just wanted to be left alone again, locked back in the claustrophobic cell where he could at least lie down and sleep.

He thought he would be able to do that when his captor finally motioned for him to come over. He crossed his arms over his stomach and obediently approached the door. When they stepped out into the hallway, he took a step towards the cell, only to be stopped by a hand on his bicep.

"This way." Sephiroth used the grip on his arm to lead him right – towards the second door. It was the door his captor used to enter and leave, the one that led to outside. For a moment, Cloud's stomach flipped in excitement. He was finally getting out!

But the closer they got to the door, the more the feeling of dread set in. If his kidnapper was bringing him out, it had to be for something bad. He wasn't just going to let him leave. Was this what he'd been planning all along? Was he bringing him out to finally get rid of him?

He felt tears return but didn't try to fight Sephiroth as he tugged him over to the door. He watched through blurred vision as his captor pulled down the heavy handle. The door pushed open with a metallic thud and within seconds Sephiroth's grip on his arm had tightened and he was taking him through it.

What was waiting outside was another hallway. This one was darker since it was only lit up by a single, green-tinted bulb in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were old and stained, and there were a couple of doors on either side. What caught Cloud's interest was what was at the end. A stairway. It led up to a door on the next level, as if they were in a basement or underground bunker.

He didn't get anywhere near it. Instead, Sephiroth directed him into the first room on the left side.

When they were inside and his arm was released, Cloud lifted a hand to wipe the tears running in a continuous stream down his face. He looked around the room in trepidation. It was small and lit up by another green ceiling light. There was a metal structure in the center that looked sort of like a doctor's examination bed. Beside that was a low metal table, and there were also some filing cabinets shoved against the back wall. The bed and the table looked new and clean but the rest of the room looked old. It had a musty smell, like in an attic or the abandoned houses in his village.

"Get up there," Sephiroth spoke, motioning towards the bed. Cloud eyed it warily and then looked over at him.

"Please tell me what's happening," he said, "I need to know why I'm here."

His captor made a low, warning sound in his throat. "I thought we'd covered this lesson already." He made a move towards him and Cloud jumped back.

"You're going to hurt me!" He cried, shaking his head as more tears poured from his eyes. He'd never been someone that cried much, even in the worst fights he'd had with kids from his village, but since getting here it was like a dam had broken inside of him.

Sephiroth paused and regarded him for a long moment. Then, with a shake of his head, he stepped back and held out a hand towards the bed again. "Only if you don't do what I say."

Of course, Cloud didn't trust him. His captor had done nothing but hurt him since he'd taken him. But he knew he wasn't going to win this. All he could do was hope he'd survived whatever was coming to fight another day. Complying with Sephiroth seemed like the best chance of that.

So he walked over to the examination bed and slowly sat up on its cushioned surface. He was about to force himself to lie back when his captor spoke again.

"On your stomach, turn your head to the wall."

He did as he was told, though it was painful to get himself down onto his stomach and his ribs continued to hurt as he laid that way. He stared over at the stained wall, studying the various cracks and patterns on its surface as his heart pounded like the ticks of a timer, counting down the seconds to what was to come.

He was surprised to hear the door to the room open again moments later. He knew his captor hadn't opened it because he was standing beside him. That meant someone else was there, in the room with them! He instinctively lifted his head to look over, but a hand was fast to press down on him and force him to lay still. Sephiroth's.

It remained in place as the second person could be heard approaching them. Cloud forced himself to take a deep breath and relax his body as he listened to what was going on.

"A child?" The voice that spoke wasn't like his captor's at all. It was gravelly and slightly nasal, and Cloud immediately hated the sound of it. It reminded him of some of the older villagers who were rude to his mom. Whoever this person was, they didn't sound like someone that would help him.

"Just do as I ask," was his captor's low reply.

"Hmph, I'll expect answers at some point."

"You'll have to earn them."

"Earn them? The planet must truly be on its back."

There was the sound of something being placed on the metal table, and then clicks and shuffling like a case being opened. Cloud continued to listen and try to work out what was going to happen, but he was completely unprepared for the feeling of a cold hand on his hip as his sweatshirt and t-shirt were pulled up.

"Ngh– no," he cried, trying to shift away from the touch. His captor was quick to press his hand down harder on his head and bring the other up to hold his arm down and keep him on his side.

"Please, what are you doing?" He called to them. The second pair of hands continued to adjust his clothing and Cloud flushed in humiliation when he felt them pull at his pants, exposing some of that part of his body. Something cool was brushed over his skin there, and he had a feeling he knew what it was for.

"Please, s-stop," he said again. "What do you want? Why are you doing this?" The two men ignored him and very soon he felt the tip of something press against his skin. Within a second he felt a sharp pinch as the object – which he understood was a needle – pierced his flesh.

"Ah!"

It felt worse than any shot he'd received from the village doctors. Whatever pierced him was long and thick and seemed to slice through each layer of muscle one by one. He gasped and hissed, but the noises soon turned to real sounds of pain as the area around the injection started to burn.

 _Burn_ … It was like fire, spreading out through his veins from that one point. Very soon his whole body became engulfed in it and he writhed against the top of the bed. He fought the hands holding him down but they kept him pinned. He barely felt the needle being retracted and one, two more taking its place. The pain was taking over his mind and pulling him away from everything by then, including his own body.

_I am your everything_

Words and images flashed through his mind, but he couldn't focus on them. As soon as the final injection was finished, his mind had started to swim towards oblivion. He thought he felt something moving against his cheek, running back through his hair, but had no time to make sense of it before darkness rose to consume him entirely.

* * *

Sephiroth felt the movements stop beneath his hands and the body go limp and relaxed on the bed. He moved his fingers away from the flushed cheek and glanced up at the other man in the room.

"That's it?" He watched the weathered but adept fingers run a cotton swab over the puncture wounds and then cover them with a small band-aid. The black, spectacled eyes didn't spare him a glance.

"For now," was murmured back at him. "Too much at the start will overcome the system. I assume you don't want the little sapling to expire too quickly."

Sephiroth ignored the words and the mocking grin that accompanied them. The other man straightened himself and began clearing away the used syringes, placing them back in his satchel with the rest of his equipment. As he did, he spoke again.

"If you were to tell me your ultimate goal, however, I would be better able to plan my side of the work."

Sephiroth leaned down and slid his arms under the sleeping boy's legs and shoulders. He lifted the limp body in one motion, adjusting the head to rest against his chest.

"I'll see you in two weeks for the next one." He proceeded to the door, once again refusing to react to the sarcastic chuckling that accompanied his departure.

Out in the hall, he allowed himself to relax and took a leisurely pace back to the second hallway. His burden slept on against his chest, so incredibly light that it could hardly be classified as such.

He lay the boy back down inside the cell when he reached it, careful to position him on the side that hadn't been injected. The small body instinctually curled in on itself against the padding. Even unconscious, the cell was becoming a familiar environment.

He stared from where he was kneeling at the entrance. "Little sapling..."

He stood and closed the door. It would be hours before its occupant woke again, and the future general of the Shinra army didn't have time to wait around for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the second chapter.
> 
> Kudos are great, but comments are what inspire me to continue so if you enjoyed, please let me know!
> 
> Happy Holidays, and Stay Safe.


	3. Sickness

_The house couldn’t be called impoverished. It was too structurally intact for that, with all the necessary appliances and even a second floor. But it was smaller than most of the neighbours’, and on closer inspection the signs of hardship were there. Tattered curtains over the windows, creaking floorboards. The furniture was an eclectic jumble of styles and eras; a sort of scrap heap that had been collected over the years rather than thoughtfully planned and designed._

_He ran his fingers over the back of the couch. A knitted, floral blanket had been thrown over the cushions, one of the many decorative touches used to disguise what would otherwise be a depressing display of dowdiness. The real thing was used for that purpose in many places; purple flowers sitting in a vase on the kitchen window behind the sink, and another bunch placed beside the front door. To a similar effect, two large homemade loafs of bread were laid out in baskets on the kitchen table. It was their scent that dominated the others and made the place seem like what it really was._

_A home._

_He pushed himself away from the couch and walked forward. To him, it was fascinating to observe; a living, breathing place of habitation. The table hadn’t even been cleaned up from the breakfast that took place there that morning. There were crusts left on its surface, and a half-drank glass of milk. Other dishes were sitting in the sink waiting to be cleaned._

_He dragged his eyes across the room and over to where a small laundry basket was sitting in the corner. Its contents were folded neatly inside and likely waiting to be put away. He went over to it and looked down at the white t-shirt resting on the top. There were so many feminine touches to the home that little details like that stood out. Small little things, masculine and independent. Such as the mud-spattered trainers thrown in the front hall or the different sports sticks leaning in one corner. Over by the table there were marks on the floor from a chair been pulled out too quickly, a sign of restlessness that wouldn’t have been put there by the one that made the bread and placed the flowers so carefully in the vases._

_He left the kitchen area and headed over to the stairway. Of course his eyes took in the other details as he did; the more obvious artefacts such as the photos hanging on the walls, as well as some drawings and embroideries. They were almost too conventional to hold his interest, it was the more subtle things, the true memories, that he was drawn to._

_The stairway was small and narrow and the ceiling was so low that he had to crouch down to get up them. It was a little less cramped in the upper floor, but only just. Three doorways stood around him then, two to the left and one to the right. He already knew which one he wanted so he headed left._

_Again there was that little detail of the handle jutting slightly loose from the old wood from being pulled too quickly and thoughtlessly too often. He smirked and reached out to close his own fingers around it. It was his intention, after all, to still that hand once and for all._

_Wasn’t it?_

* * *

Cloud gripped the edge of the toilet bowl as his body lurched into another painful heave. After so many times going through the same thing, only a small amount of bile was forced up his throat. He gagged and spit it out along with the saliva that had gathered in his mouth. After that he let his body slump partly back down to the floor on his knees.

A few tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He shut them tight and gritted his teeth against the intense misery he was feeling. It had been the same since he’d woken up hours ago. He remembered opening his eyes to the now familiar darkness of the cell and feeling the worst pain he’d ever experienced in his life. Every small movement he made was agony and for a long time he’d just laid still against the padding, afraid that any small shift would make it worse. His temples had been pounding and his whole body felt sick and weak. It was a bit like the time the winter bug had broken out among the children in Nebelheim. He’d caught it like all the others and was bed-ridden for three weeks. The fever and stomach sickness he’d suffered were similar to what he was feeling now – only this seemed a thousand times worse than what he remembered.

Not long after he was lying there, the door to the cell was opened and Sephiroth appeared. The man made no reaction to his sickened state and instead just reached in and took hold of him so he could pull him towards the door. He’d moaned and pleaded with him not to move, but he’d been forced to his feet and practically dragged across the hall and into the bathroom. He assumed he was being brought in for his usual allotted bathroom time, but it was different. Beside the toilet bowl, welded onto the floor, was a long chain. And attached to the end of the chain was a shackle which Sephiroth soon locked around his ankle. 

He left Cloud sitting there with the parting words that he would return later. Cloud watched him in shock, not understanding why he’d been left there, chained like an animal on the cold tiled floor. But the reason became clear less than ten minutes later – when the vomiting started.

The first few times weren’t even that bad and it almost made him feel better to empty his stomach of the liquid that had been in it – the juices he’d been living on. But the relief was only temporary and soon the act became painful as about every twenty minutes his body continued to try to expel what wasn’t there in any way it could.

He’d just been through the latest assault and felt completely worn out. His arms were shaking against the edges of the toilet bowl and he didn’t think he’d be able to even hold himself up for another round. He just wanted to sleep now, the way he’d slept through most of the winter bug. In his own bed with his mom looking after him, until he woke up feeling back to himself.

_Back to himself_

He wasn’t sure that would ever be possible. This nightmare he was in felt like it would never end. It was only getting worse. He remembered what had happened before he’d passed out. Sephiroth and that other man had done something to him; put something inside him. That’s why he was sick now. Was that what they wanted? Was this how Sephiroth was going to kill him?

About a half an hour later, a few hours since he’d been left in there, the bathroom door opened.

He forced himself to lift his head and watch his captor coming into the room. At first the tall form was fuzzy because his vision had been off since waking up. He found it hard to focus and the lights hurt his eyes. As a result, Sephiroth was like a mass of darkness coming towards him, a creature of shadows and chaos that the older people sometimes told stories about in the village. It was only when the man was in front of him, regarding the unpleasant result of his illness, that he seemed to take shape again.

Sephiroth reached forward and flushed the toilet. Cloud sat back, wincing a bit at the loud noise. Apparently his hearing was sensitive too. Sephiroth then closed the seat and tapped it.

“Sit up here.”

As his captor moved off somewhere behind him, Cloud turned his eyes forward. It almost felt impossible to move, let alone pull himself up to sit down. Only his fear of what his captor would do if he didn’t hurry, and the fact that the tiles were hurting his knees from kneeling on them so long, got him to eventually move.

He raised his hands to the edges of the toilet bowl. He practically had to hug the porcelain as he used it to push his body upwards. By the time he was sitting up and turned around, his body was covered in a new layer of sweat. He panted and leaned forward as the whole room seemed to wobble around him. Suddenly, his vision went completely white.

_Your everything_

_From the beginning… the planet…_

_Infused with the lifestream… everything_

_M… Mo_

“Mom.” When he came back to himself, he was leaning back and Sephiroth was crouched in front of him. He gasped and jerked back, but the man made a shushing sound. The silver haired man then held up a gloved hand and Cloud could see he was holding some pills.

“Take these.”

Cloud swallowed and looked down at the little white capsules resting against the black leather.

“What are they?” He asked. His voice was gravelly from being sick, barely a whisper. Sephiroth heard it all the same and wasn’t pleased.

“Take them now, or I’ll force them down your throat.”

“You’re making me sick,” he said back, “… you’re trying to kill me.” He was surprised when instead of growing angrier, the demon in front of him actually smiled – no, smirked – at his words.

“Don’t speak about what you don’t understand,” he said in an almost mocking manner, before he reached for one of Cloud’s wrists with his free hand and forcefully slapped the pills into his palm. Cloud closed his eyes in frustration but really, he knew there was no point in fighting the other man. Not on this.

He raised his hand to his lips and slowly put the pills in his mouth. In another moment, Sephiroth was handing him an open bottle of water which he used to wash them down. The water helped to sooth his sore throat but he didn’t drink too much of it because he was afraid of upsetting his stomach again.

That turned out to be an irrelevant problem. Minutes after swallowing the pills, a heavy tiredness came over him. His heart started pounding in panic as he realised that at least one of the pills he’d taken was something to make him sleep. The idea of losing consciousness and his captor being able to do whatever he wanted to him terrified him. He tried to force himself to stay alert for as long as possible, but very soon he was slumped back against the tank behind him, barely able to keep himself sitting upright. From that point everything was fuzzy and hard to make sense of.

“Open up.”

Sephiroth’s voice… a touch to his chin. Then there was a strong, minty flavour in his mouth. It burned a bit and he spat it back out after a moment. Then there was something cool and damp running over the skin of his face, his lips and his forehead. It was soothing enough that his already struggling system could no longer fight the urge to give in to the small bit of comfort and relax completely.

The last thing he felt before everything went away was being lifted into the arms of darkness itself. The darkness he’d seen earlier, the shadows from the elder’s stories, coming to take him away as they’d always warned bad children.

* * *

The next few days after that were only slightly better. He slept for most of them, he didn’t know if that was because he was sick or because of the pills Sephiroth forced him to take twice a day now. Probably both.

The painful headache and vomiting went away after the first day, and what he mostly suffered from then was the temperature. His memories of the winter bug were of feeling too hot and stuffy under the blankets of his bed, but this was the exact opposite. He felt cold. So cold that he’d lie there shivering for the hours that he was awake, holding his arms and legs close to his body to try to preserve some heat. That’s what the kids in his village had been taught to do if they ever got lost in the mountains overnight. It didn’t really work now though. The cold felt like it was _inside_ of him, in his veins and bones. There didn’t seem to be anything he could do to get rid of it, even when he’d been forced to take another bath the day before.

Eventually that too went away. When he woke up that morning – or whatever time it was when the cell light switched on – he felt better than he had since first waking up after the injections. Better enough to feel bored as he sat there with his back pressed to the padding, trying to think of some good memories to occupy his mind. Since he didn’t really like many of the people in his village growing up, he thought of his mom. Just simple things such as having dinner with her, sitting at their fireplace listening to her sing, reading some of his own magazines to her…

_Mother_

He squeezed his eyes shut and lifted his hand to his head.

Suddenly, the cell door in front of him pulled open. He lowered his hand and stared out. Sephiroth was standing out there waiting for him. His strange, green eyes scanned over him and Cloud couldn’t help but feel miserable and small as he sat there with his hands wrapped around his stomach. It reminded him of how he felt when the other village kids made fun of his height or his ‘girly’ features. At his age, fifteen, the others had already started to fill out more than him. And after being sick and wearing clothes that didn’t really fit him properly, he was sure he looked even more pathetic.

Whatever he thought of him, his captor didn’t comment and instead just let him pass to use the bathroom. They didn’t really bother with the five-minute rule anymore – Cloud knew to be fast and come out as soon as he was finished. Sephiroth also didn’t follow his every step there and back anymore.

When Cloud came back out, he was still waiting over by the cell. His back was resting against the outer wall, silver hair falling like a mountain waterfall around his broad arms, which were crossed over his chest. Cloud walked over and with one last glance at his captor, he went back inside the cell.

He lowered himself to the floor and then turned to watch the door being closed. But that didn’t happen. Instead, his captor actually crouched on one knee at the entrance and followed in after him. Cloud pulled himself back into the wall as the man moved towards him. He immediately felt his heart start to thump in his chest.

Had he taken too long in the bathroom? Had he looked at him the wrong way? He must have done something… something… and now he was going to be punished again. 

Sephiroth came to a stop right in front of him. He lifted a hand, and Cloud braced himself for pain – but it didn’t come. Instead, the man reached into a pocket of his own long leather jacket and pulled out something small and flat. Cloud watched silently as he lifted the thing up. It was… a chocolate bar.

He recognised the label; it had a Shinra Special Edition wrapper – the company had started producing them the year before in collaboration with a well-known sweet manufacturer. He’d read all about them in SOLDIER UPDATE and had even bought them from the merchants a few times – though not often since they were more expensive than regular chocolate.

He stared in confusion as Sephiroth’s gloved fingers swiftly unwrapped the foil at the top and pulled it back to reveal the first two rows of chocolate squares. He broke them off with a crack that filled the entire cell, and then, to Cloud’s further confusion, held them out to him.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the other’s hand. He slowly lifted his eyes to look at Sephiroth, and the man gave him a small nod. His expression was almost encouraging.

He lifted his own hand and took the piece between his fingers. When he had it, he pulled his arm back to his chest and continued to watch Sephiroth. He didn’t know what else to do or what this meant.

Reading his fear, the man gave him another one of his smirks.

“You’ve been good these past few days. If you’re good, you’ll be rewarded.” He motioned towards the chocolate. “Too much will make you ill right now, but maybe next time I’ll leave the whole thing.” He lifted the bar higher and raised a brow at Cloud. “Does that sound good?”

Still unsure and slightly afraid of the supposed kindness the man was showing him, he nodded slowly. “Yes.”

His captor’s smirk sharpened. “We’ll see.”

With that, he pulled himself back out through the door and rose to his feet. The door was shut moments later, leaving Cloud in isolation again.

He stared at the padded inside of the door for a long few minutes, still in shock from the words. Eventually he moved his eyes down to look at his hand. The chocolate was already starting to melt between his fingers. He shifted them a bit and tried to decide if he should eat it. Nothing good had happened since he woke up in the cell, everything so far had scared him or hurt him in some way. He didn’t trust that this ‘gift’ would be any different. It would probably be safer not to eat it.

Then again, he’d learned already what happened when he didn’t accept what was given to him by his captor. It wasn’t like he had anywhere in the cell to hide it if he didn’t eat it. And also…

He wanted it.

He hadn’t had any food to eat in what felt like _forever_ and the smell was so strong. It was filling the whole cell. Chocolate was one of his favourite things to eat and he usually had it every day at home – mostly when his mom didn’t know about it. So why deny himself one small, nice thing when everything else in his life was so awful at the moment?

With his mind made up, he closed his eyes and slowly brought it to his lips. The minute the sweet flavour touched his mouth, all his thoughts and doubts went away. He almost felt like crying. The taste was good after so many days of drinking the juices, but more than that, it reminded him of home. Of his real life. 

He closed his eyes an let himself just enjoy it. It was only a short break from all the fear and pain but at that moment he would take anything he could get.

* * *

Over the next few days, he continued to get better. The only lingering effect of the illness were the times when he still felt cold, and the strange dreams he had every time he went to sleep. They left him feeling confused and weirded out when he woke up, even though he never remembered what they were actually about. All he recalled was a voice… or voices. He didn’t know what they were saying… he couldn’t even tell if they were male or female.

That morning had been no different, only that along with the confusion he woke up with a sore back. He’d been getting the same pain for a few days now and he knew it was from lying and sitting around in the cell for so long. So he made himself stand and move around a little to try make it go away. Not that he really could move that much considering how tiny the cell was. All he could really do was pace a little back and forth and stretch his arms out to the opposite wall. He wanted so badly to be outside, even just for a while. Out in the mountains around the village with nothing but grass and fresh air around him. Thinking about it made something inside him ache with longing.

He was still standing up when Sephiroth came. The man didn’t seem surprised and just moved back to let him come out.

Cloud inhaled the cooler air out in the hall and started making his way over to the bathroom. Just as he passed Sephiroth, he felt a hand on his shoulder which had him jumping a little.

“Be quick.”

He glanced over and then nodded. He didn’t know why Sephiroth felt the need to say that. It wasn’t like he ever took that long. But he heeded the order and went through his routine as quick as he could. He did try to take a minute to stretch out his cramped muscles, but he knew there wasn’t really a point, since they would just get sore from being confined again all day.

It turned out that he was wrong about that.

When he came back out to the hall and tried to approach the cell, he was blocked by his captor. Sephiroth again took hold of him, gripping his upper arm, and to Cloud’s horror he started leading him towards the second door. The one that went outside and the one they’d gone through the last time he’d…

He hoped it was something different this time, that Sephiroth was taking him somewhere else, maybe even up those stairs, but once they were out in the second hall it was clear where they were headed.

“No!” He said fast, stopping his steps and trying to pull his arm back from his captor’s hold, “please… not that again.” Sephiroth was taking him to the ‘medical’ room. The last visit there had left him feeling worse than he’d ever felt in his life. Like he was going to die. He’d only just started to feel back to normal and now his captor wanted to bring him back there, to hurt him more. “Please don’t bring me in there.”

Sephiroth paused in his own steps and turned to look at him. His green eyes were like twin elemental objects in his strange, cold face. They looked to be glowing in the duller light of that hall. When Cloud looked at him, he sometimes didn’t think he was looking at another person and it made him feel even more hopeless.

He felt his tears return and closed his eyes in despair. There was no point. Sephiroth was going to do whatever he wanted to him. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

Suddenly, there was a touch beneath his chin, making him look up. He opened his eyes again fast and found Sephiroth leaning towards him. His captor watched him closely for a moment before speaking.

“If you’re good now, and do as you’re told, you’ll be rewarded,” he said slowly, almost gently, “you remember your reward a few days ago?”

“You’re going to make me sick again,” Cloud said back. Sephiroth nodded.

“But you’ll recover again, and when you do things can be worse or they can be better.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Cloud shook his head, more tears spilling from his eyes as his body fought the desire to scream suddenly in frustration. It wasn’t fair that this was happening to him. He didn’t even know why.

Sephiroth released his chin and stood up straight again. “What’s going to happen will happen, you can’t fight it. You can only choose how it happens, understand?”

And Cloud did understand. It was a lesson he’d been taught since he’d first woken up in the cell. His captor had the power, not him. Sephiroth could make him do whatever he wanted and there had been nothing he’d been able to do so far to resist. Even at full health he hadn’t been strong enough, and now, weak from being sick and with his muscles feeling so useless… what could he do?

When Sephiroth took hold of his arm again, he let himself be pulled the rest of the way towards the medical room. To save himself from the hopelessness trying to suffocate him, his mind latched onto what Sephiroth had said about controlling how it happened. He had some control and if there was anything, he could do to make things even a little bit better for himself, he had to try.

When they went into the room this time, he was surprised to find another person waiting for them. Cloud immediately knew it was the man from the last time. The ‘doctor’ who had given him the injections.

His appearance matched his voice.

He was tall and looked to be unhealthily thin, with long dark hair that he had tied back into a greasy ponytail at the nape of his neck. His face was tanned but badly wrinkled and he wore a pair of rounded spectacles that looked like they were too small. They rested low on his nose, and this allowed Cloud to see his eyes as they ran over him once he was ushered into the room. Cloud immediately felt the urge to be as far away as possible from this man. His eyes looked black and… soulless, different even to Sephiroth’s.

“So, our little patient recovered,” the man’s lips broke into a grin that birthed another dozen wrinkles on each cheek. He moved forward, his hands clasped behind his back and a long white lab coat shifting around his poke-like body. “We didn’t make introductions last time,” he said, addressing Cloud directly. He held out one of his long, weathered hands, “I’m Professor Hojo of S–”

“Enough, get on with the work.” Sephiroth’s voice spoke up from behind Cloud, cutting off the greeting. The professor glanced up and then nodded. He lowered his arm but the grin didn’t leave his face.

“Very well, have him sit up on the bed,” he motioned towards the gurney bed that Cloud had been on last time before turning his back to them to fiddle with some items on a tray. Cloud felt himself becoming choked up with sickness as Sephiroth guided him over to the bed. His body started to shake so much that he struggled to pull himself up onto it. His captor came behind him then and caught him under each arm so he could help him up. Once up, Cloud quickly turned himself around and shifted down and away from the man as much as he could.

Unfortunately that only brought him closer to the professor, who after another moment turned away from what he was doing to face him again. Cloud tensed and inched backwards when he came to stand directly in front of him. Noting his discomfort, the man shook his head while lifting the end of the stethoscope that was hanging around his neck.

“Now, now child. Nothing to fear, just a little examination.”

Cloud dug his nails into the palm of his hands as the circle of metal was pressed against his chest, thankfully over his t-shirt. There was a moment of silence and he knew the man must have been listening to how fast his heart was beating. He could feel it pounding inside him.

The professor didn’t say anything to that and instead lifted the bell and moved around to press it against his back, just over his lungs.

“Take a breath,” he murmured. Cloud did, but it was so choked and shaky that he had to do it two more times before the man was satisfied.

“Very good,” the professor murmured when he was standing back in front of him. He glanced at Sephiroth, who stood near the other end of the bed, silent and watchful as a mountain god. “Better than one might expect.”

There was no response from the silver haired man. Cloud glanced between them, trying to listen to every word even though they made no sense. When Sephiroth still didn’t reply, the professor pulled the stethoscope from his ears and moved back to the tray.

What followed was a physical examination not unlike the ones he’d received from the village doctors. The professor checked his blood pressure, throat and glands, shone a light in his eyes and even did a reflex test. All seemed to be normal from the bits of conversation the man made throughout, but that didn’t make Cloud feel any better. He knew he wasn’t there just for an examination, and that was confirmed when the professor finally put the last of his instruments down and then ordered him to lie down, facing the wall.

He felt himself start to shake again and found he wasn’t able to move.

“I-I’m not sick, I don’t need any inject–”

“Cloud,” he jumped as a voice – the voice of his kidnapper – spoke from directly behind him. “remember what we spoke about.” A hand came down on his shoulder and Cloud let it pull him down, all the way until he was lying on his side with his face pressed into the soft surface. Sephiroth stayed in front of him then, keeping his hand on his one arm but not pressing hard.

He closed his eyes as he felt his t-shirt being pulled up and the wet cotton swab pressed to the same spot as before. His skin must have still been sensitive from the last shots because he thought it hurt more this time when the needle pierced his skin. By the second one, his mind was swimming and the confusing voices started speaking inside his head again.

They grew louder and louder until they took over everything.

_In the distant past, our planet was home._

_Two thousand years ago, the meteor._

_I’m still thinking of you._

_Within the Lifestream, and on the surface. Her embrace._

_That will be the beginning._

* * *

When he woke again, he immediately felt the pain all over his body. The worst seemed to be in his head. Just like the last time. He moaned softly and pulled the blanket tighter around him.

But wait… that wasn’t right.

He opened his eyes and pushed himself onto his elbows. The light was on in the cell and through the painful flashing in his eyes, he stared down in wonder at the pillow underneath him. Then he shifted and felt it again; the thick blanket pooled around his shoulders.

For one second he actually thought it was his own pillow and bed quilt and that he was in his bed at home. He opened his eyes and looked around, but very soon he realised that he was surrounded by the same padded floor and walls he’d known for weeks now. He was still in the cell. The new additions must have been the ‘reward’ Sephiroth had promised him. 

He let his head fall back into the pillow and cried into it. Partly because of how sick he felt again but mostly because that one flash of hope was enough to crush him. He would probably come to be grateful for the extra comfort he’d been given as the sickness went on. For now though, they just made him feel all the more confined to this never-ending nightmare.

* * *

Sephiroth listened to the muffled sobbing coming from the camera feed for a few seconds longer before switching off the tablet. He walked over to the counter and set the device down so he could pick up his phone.

As the line began to ring, he glanced down at the stack of magazines sitting in front of him. He reached for one and started to tear off the polybag wrapping just as the other end picked up.

_“Brother.”_

“I have a job for you,” he spoke without greeting.

_“Oh. What kind?”_ The already drawling voice was barely a whisper over the connection static. Sephiroth finished unwrapping the magazine and picked it up to look at the cover.

**SOLDIER UPDATE – Collector’s Issue 44**

“I need you to visit a village for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, a slightly shorter chapter than the others but I wanted to get something out. 
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments on the other chapters, it makes my day to read them. Let me know if you like how this is going :)


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